


More Than Anything

by Addie_D_123



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Fluff and Angst, Gen, Weechesters
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-04
Updated: 2014-04-04
Packaged: 2018-01-18 04:18:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,822
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1414825
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Addie_D_123/pseuds/Addie_D_123
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The first time Sam ran away from “home” he was only six years old, but he didn’t get very far.  It would take him another twelve years before he would break his promise to Dean and leave him and everything else behind.</p>
            </blockquote>





	More Than Anything

The first time Sam ran away from “home” he was only six years old, but he didn’t get very far. It would take him another twelve years before he would break his promise to Dean and leave him and everything else behind.

It was one of those very rare Sunday mornings when the boys knew they would be able to sleep in. No hunts to get up at dawn for, sleep mussed and foggy eyed. That was one of the best parts of staying at Bobby’s house, well that and having their own room. Dean woke up the same way he always did, by immediately reaching over beside him so he could put a hand on Sammy. Just for a moment, just to feel that he was there.

Panic set in the moment he brought his hand down on cool sheets in the empty spot where Sam used to be. The house was dark and silent, which was unusual even for 3:47 in the morning. Hunters never really kept regular hours. Dean quickly swung his legs over the side of the bed and shuddered at the freezing cold hard wood under his bare feet.

“Sam?!”

He whispered loudly, unable to keep the panic from his voice. For once he was glad that Dad and Bobby had been passing the bottle back and forth all night. There was very little chance of them stumbling back downstairs until afternoon at the earliest.

Dean started for the main staircase, the old boards groaning tiredly underneath his shuffling feet. From the top he could see the dim orange glow of the front porch light shining like a beacon. It was when he reached the bottom of the stairs that he first heard it. The grinding of metal on metal and the anxious whine of the impala trying to turn over. It was like panicked cries to Dean’s ears; someone was hurting her.

Creeping like a thief in the night Dean made it to the front door and proceeded to turn every one of the seven locks on it in slow motion. He squeezed himself outside and shut the door with a soft click.

The air was cold and damp as he huffed out a steamy breath that rose slowly like smoke into the early morning sky. He stopped in his tracks at the sight in front of him and almost skidded in the sharp gravel biting into his soft soles. Sam was sitting in the driver’s seat of the Impala, just a tiny silhouette in the cold blue moonlight. As he approached the passenger side Sam stilled in the seat, his hands gripping the steering wheel stiffly. He didn’t turn his head when Dean gingerly pulled the handle on the squeaky door and settled himself besides him.

“Close the door…’s cold.” Sam sniffled.

He closed the door and sealed the warmth and quiet inside with them.

“Hey there Sammy.” Dean kept his voice low and soft like speaking to a cornered animal. “Whatcha doing?”

Sam turned his tear stained face towards him, his bottom lip sticking out so far it would almost be comical, if it wasn’t tearing Dean’s heart out.

“I wasn’t gonna leave without you De. Promise!”

Sam’s chest jumped up and down as he gasped for breath between words. Dean paused and chose his next words carefully.

“Where are you going Sam?”

Sam turned back to stare out the windshield like he was searching for an answer there. He wiped at his eyes with the back of his hand and sucked in a stuttered breath.

“Dean? The car. It won’t start.”

Dean glanced over at the keys still in the ignition, moonlight glinting off of them as they swayed slightly where they hung.

“Dude. When did you swipe Dad’s keys…he’s gonna kill you.” Dean chided him playfully, but was quickly shut down by another soft sob from Sam. His eyes wide and wet when he looked back to Dean.

“Please Dean?”

It was an automatic response to Sam’s plea when he reached over and turned the key in the ignition. He cringed as the growl of the motor cut through the silence around them. Sam looked just as surprised as him as they froze and waited for the inevitable sound of their father yelling from the house.  After a few minutes when nothing came Dean let out the breath he was holding until jumping at the sudden sound of Sam’s tiny voice.

“De? Where should we go?”

Dean couldn’t help but smile at the sight of him behind the wheel. His eyes barely able to look over the dash, his short little legs swinging, not coming anywhere near the pedals. He is distracted momentarily by his pudgy toes before remembering their current situation.

“Well Sam, neither one of us has shoes on. Maybe we should run in and-“

“No! We have to leave, it has to be now!” Sam has that bottom lip pushed out again, stubborn and determined.

And Dean really wished that Sam’s life didn’t have to be a series of disappointments. He could feel the heat radiating off Sam’s flushed skin, warming their little world inside the car.

“Sam, seriously I need to get you inside before-“

“Do you ever wish that Dad died instead of Mom?”

Dean felt a little sick as his eyes grew wide and his heart sped up. He knew he should yell at him and tell him not to talk that way, not to even think that way. That Dad loved him and that none of this was his fault. But the lines felt rehearsed and tired, and he wasn’t sure who is was trying to convince anymore.

“No, I can’t think that way.”

“Why?”

Sam’s hands were still glued to the wheel but his face had softened, looking over to his big brother like he had all of life’s answers.

“Because we can’t change what happened. Mom’s gone, Dad’s here.”

Sam seemed to consider his answer for a moment and dropped his hands into his lap, taking a long shaky breath.

“Hey Dean?”

“Yeah Sam?”

“Do you think if Mom was alive still, you think she would have liked me?”

Dean’s eyes burned with the threat of tears as the tightening in his chest made him choke. He swallowed hard against the lump in his throat and managed to get the words out.

“You would have been her favorite thing in the world.”

And with that Sam’s eyes welled up again, but a small smile remained on his lips. It was a look of sad resignation that no six-year-old should know how to put on so well. But Sam was well practiced in the exercise of disappointment.

“Dean, you’re not gonna come with me, are you?”

“Sam... _Sammy_ …” But all he could say was his name. Again and again like an apology, like he needed him to understand. He reached forward slowly and turned the key, letting out a deep breath as the car rumbled back to sleep.

Sam cried silently, tears dropping from his chin onto his already damp pajama shirt. Dean didn’t say anything, just opening his arms and waiting patiently as Sam crawled over the seat and into his lap. He wrapped himself around him and tried to soothe his tiny shaking form. Pressing Sam’s soggy face to his chest and squeezing him tight, he wished he could will away all his pain and fear with the warmth of his body.

“You know I love you, right Sam? More than anything.”

Sam’s voice was almost too quiet to hear, but he could feel his lips moving against his chest, mouthing the words.

“I know De.”

“More than _anything_ Sammy.”

And he felt Sam’s head nodding frantically against him. He kept tightening his grip until the muffled protests and weak struggling made him release his grip. Sam pulled himself back far enough to look his brother in the eye, wiping the remaining tears away.

“You’re gonna crush me to death jerk.” Sam managed to get a few words out between hiccupped breaths, scowling and indignant.

Dean laid a hand gently on each side of Sam’s face and held him there for a moment.  Just looking into those big eyes, glowing like the sky after a storm in the moonlight. He leaned in and lightly kissed each of Sam’s eyelids before pressing a soft one to his lips and finally one to the tip of his nose. When Dean registered the slow smile spreading on Sam’s face, he played it up for all it was worth.

“Gross Sammy! I just kissed your snot!”

Grimacing, Dean wiped his mouth with both hands and pretended to spit dramatically. Sam erupted into giggles as Dean pressed his face into the crook of his neck and proceeded to wipe his mouth on him. He wriggled and shrieked as he tried to pull away but Dean was unrelenting; blowing raspberries on his neck and tickling him all over.

When Dean finally released him, instead of pulling away Sam turned himself around and settled into Dean’s lap, grabbing his arms and wrapping them around him protectively. He leaned his head back against his chest and Dean ducked his face down to press it into Sam’s hair. Dean inhaled him in deeply and sighed contentedly, waiting as Sam’s breathing evened out and his muscles relaxed.

“Hey Sam, do you wanna head back inside, it’s pretty cold.”

Sam considered the question for a moment before wiggling down further against his chest.

“No, can we stay out here for a little while?”

“Whatever you want baby boy.” Dean could feel Sam drifting off in his arms, and he’d be happy to hold him there forever. The inside of the Impala’s windows were fogged up, hiding them away from the world like they were floating in a cloud. Dean could feel his eyes getting heavy but he could hold out for as long as he needed to, as long as Sam didn’t cry anymore. As long as Sam needed him.

“Hey Dean?”

“Yeah Sam?”

“It’s just you and me, right? Forever and ever?”

“M'hm.”

“ _Dean_.” Sam whined, annoyed as Dean smiled into his hair. “You have to promise.”

“Promise baby boy.”

“Me too.”

And it was only a few short moments later that Sam fell asleep. Warm and content and all wrapped up in his big brother that wouldn’t let him go no matter what. Under a cold pale moon, in the only home they ever really knew.

And this was the first time Sam ran away from “home” when he was only six years old. But he didn’t get very far. It would take him another twelve years before he was able to break his promise to Dean and leave him and everything else, behind.

And it would take him a few years after that to realize that home, his _real_ home, wasn’t a place. It was a person.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading. All comments are greatly appreciated! xo


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